


Fight-or-flight-or-fuck

by Kalpana



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bones is worried about them two, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, First Kiss, First Time, Fluffy Ending, Kirk is suffering ptsd, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pon Farr, Porn With Plot, Post Amok Time, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut, Spock is not well either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalpana/pseuds/Kalpana
Summary: The story is set post Amok Time. Two weeks later, Jim is still haunted by the incident and has recurrent nightmares and hallucinations due to PTSD. He has cut off Spock completely, as he triggers Jim. Spock seems unaffected by it all, until it becomes evident that that's not the case.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 165
Collections: Enterprise Love





	Fight-or-flight-or-fuck

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure there are millions of fics out there about Amok Time and what happens afterwards, but I had to write mine.
> 
> It gets graphic towards the end. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as enjoyed writing it.

It was way past the middle of the beta shift, but Jim couldn’t get any sleep. He turned around again and again, restless, not being able to find a comfortable position to fall asleep - sleep he badly needed. It had been two weeks since that terrifying experience in Vulcan, two weeks since his first officer - his friend - killed him. Almost killed him. Hadn’t Bones been there… Jim didn’t want to delve on what worse things could have happened. The reality of it was bad enough.

Even though he was lying on his bed on the Enterprise, with comfortable regulation mattress and linens, his back burned as if he was still rolling on the hot sands of Vulcan. Jim felt his face - he was probably running a fever. His own hand’s touch made him recall Spocks’ long hands on his face, his neck, his shoulders, his torso, his entire body being tossed around and beaten like a toy. Jim had known about Vulcans’ superior strength and stamina, but the pure theoretical knowledge had nothing to do with the hands-on experience he had had of it. Spock had never used his strength in a violent way before, instead relying on other, subtler methods of facing enemies, like the nerve pinch, and of course, his also superior intelligence. But the pon farr had stripped Spock of his balanced and practiced restraints, of his intellect. He had become raw, animal-like, ferocious and dangerous.

Dangerous. Spock was dangerous. Jim couldn’t stop thinking about that word. His first officer had been with him in innumerable life-threatening situations, and he had always felt safe beside him. Safer, actually, than if he were on his own. Spock had saved his life a dozen times over —  and then, killed him once.

Jim pressed his eyes closed. If only he could will himself to sleep. But he couldn’t. As soon as he closed his eyes all he could see was Spock’s eyes tinged with frenzy on top of him, his lips quivering in rage. The alien eyes reflected Jim’s own terrified face in a bloody red halo. Jim could feel Spock’s hot breath all over his face, and again the vigorous hands of the Vulcan squeezing his neck, his torso, grabbing his hands. He gasped for breath and opened his eyes again. Spock’s ghastly face disappeared from view.

Since they had come back from Vulcan, every night had been like this for the Enterprise’s captain. If he managed to finally sleep, it was always a shallow sleep filled with nightmares. The same nightmares that accosted him now. During the day, and because he was so exhausted from lack of sleep, his duties as captain took all the energy and concentration he could muster and therefore was free of the crippling fear that assaulted him at night. Generally free. It had become difficult for him to look at Spock. His body had the habit of turning to look at his science officer’s station, looking for Spock’s eyes when there was a scientific or tactical problem that had to be solved, but now seeing him sent a cold shiver down his spine. He was getting better at avoiding looking at him —  however, at times it was beyond his control. Like that very morning, when they had encountered a mysterious unidentified ship that had passed by them, he had looked up to Spock in search for a suggested course of action. As his duty as captain demanded, as Spock’s duty as science and first officer demanded, as they had always done.

Spock’s face had looked serene and impassible as always, but Jim was quite sure that the flash of terror he felt had been clearly visible to the Vulcan. Spock had answered the unasked question about what the probabilities dictated was better to do next, saving him from having to open his mouth. Otherwise he would have probably screamed. And that had been, what, barely 5 seconds of eye contact?

How could he continue to command the Enterprise in his current state? Jim’s self-doubt started gnawing at him. And self-doubt was a feeling a starship captain couldn’t afford.

He had cut off his first officer as much as he could. No more chess games after their shifts, no more dinners, no invitations to talk longer in private when they ran into each other in the corridors. Jim avoided the rec rooms and the gym to minimize the chances of meeting his first officer anywhere outside the bridge, where they were bound by their posts. There, they were always professional. Though Jim’s grip slipped away from him at times.

Spock no doubt had noted the changes in his captain’s behavior, but said nothing. Jim felt a pang of guilt thinking about it: the Vulcan had reverted to his known, usual self and conduct, there was nothing to suggest that he would ever attack Jim again, the whole crisis of the pon farr was over. Vulcan emotional control apart, Spock had to feel hurt about the change in their relationship dynamic. He was just too discreet to mention it.

Jim decided that sleeping was impossible that night, got up and took a long sonic shower. He’d better take over the bridge early. At least that way, he could be there without Spock for some hours.

In the shower, he inspected his body for the marks the fight with Spock had left. Most of them were gone now, but some reddish patches remained, on his hips, forearms, a darker mark on his left thigh, probably made by Spock’s knee. Jim knew all would be gone one day, he wished the same thing would happen to his memory of it.

Putting on his uniform, Jim went by the rec room to get coffee and breakfast, and took the turbolift to the bridge. The corridors were mostly empty - the beta shift worked with a skeleton crew. For the first time since he had got command of the Enterprise, he liked seeing few people on his ship.

The turbolift’s doors opened and Jim arrived at a quiet and sleepy bridge. On the screen, the vastness of space looked captivatingly calm. Glancing over the stations, Jim stood still when he realized he knew the officer at the con very well. Spock, as superior in rank to anyone else on the bridge, was sitting there, and he had turned the chair around to see who could possibly come in on the bridge at this hour, before the shift changed. Even under the Vulcan’s composed features, Jim could perceive he had been as surprised as he had. Spock had also taken over his shift ahead of schedule. An ensign sitting on the engineering station commented on it, but Jim only heard it in the background, as if the ensign, and the bridge, were very far away. Spock was all he could see.

Jim blinked and the bridge seemed to come back into focus, though it was still blurry. He turned to where the voice he had come from.

‘It’s your lucky day, if the entire crew does the same, you’ll get to sleep early,’ Jim said to a young man in a red shirt.

‘Yes, sir.’

Jim moved slowly towards the con while Spock, in equally slow movements, stood up. He didn’t go towards the Science station, instead choosing to remain, as he had done so many times before, by the captain’s chair. Jim sat down. He felt much better as soon as he was on that chair. His chair.

Spock shifted on his feet, several times. Jim, actively avoiding looking at him, knew however that his first officer was fidgeting. ‘It seems he wants to say something,’ Jim thought. Then, why was he not speaking? It worried him that the crew could notice anything amiss.

‘Anything to report while I was away?’ Jim asked, shifting on the chair to achieve a comfortable position. Or one that looked as if he was relaxed.

‘Nothing of importance, captain. We are on our way to Andor as scheduled,’ Spock replied.

‘Good, well, let me see the reports recorded since the start of the beta shift.’

Spock handed him the PADD with the reports requested.

‘Here, captain.’

Handling him the reports, Spock had brushed Jim’s hand with his long fingers only so slightly. So slightly that, if this had happened three weeks ago, Jim wouldn’t have noticed. But now he did. He immediately looked at Spock for signs that he was about to attack. There were none.

‘Jim,’ he heard. He thought he heard. Spock hadn’t opened his mouth. A delusion? On the bridge? He grabbed the PADD firmly and Spock let go.

‘I’ll go to my station, captain.’ And so he did.

Jim buried himself in the PADD where he confirmed that indeed, there had been actually nothing to report. The usual measurements, the usual quirks of the Enterprise, the usual emptiness of space. He wished something had happened so that he could fix his attention on something distracting enough.

However, there was nothing. So his thoughts drifted, filling up the bridge, towards the thing that was foremost in his mind.

The bridge slowly turned red. The walls of the ship dissolved and became red dry mountains, the empty star-studded space in front of him an orange sky, and a reddish sun. The beeps and blops of the controls faded away and he heard a hellish cry. And then a metallic thud.

‘Sir! Are you all right?’ Jim heard someone say. He woke up from his reverie and looked at himself. He was sitting at the con, a little agitated but perfectly fine. He turned to where the voice had come from.

‘What..,’ his voice died before he could finish the question. Spock was bent over his station and writhing in pain. He had hit his head against the controls. Jim jumped on his feet.

‘Lieutenant Chang, call sickbay! No, cancel that order. Call Bones, wherever he is,’ Jim said.

He moved towards his first officer, but did not dare to come too close. He stood behind the railing, hesitant for the first time in his life. He wanted to help Spock on his feet and check his forehead, take him to sickbay, but at the same time he shuddered at the idea of Spock’s arms anywhere near him. Luckily, two officers were already helping their first officer.

McCoy’s voice sounded through the comm.

‘McCoy here. What happened, Jim? Can’t one get a damn full night of sleep?’

‘Go to sickbay immediately. Spock is not well. He’ll be there in a minute. Kirk out,’ Jim said. Directing his voice to the two officers holding Spock, he ordered them to take the Vulcan to sickbay immediately and report back to the bridge once McCoy had had a look at him.

Still holding the railing, his eyes followed the three figures moving towards the turbolift, until the doors closed on them. Then, he walked back to the con and sat down, exhausted.

***

The officers came back to the bridge with no news. McCoy had got rid of them almost immediately. Jim didn’t call sickbay until Uhura, who had come in for her shift, went over to her captain before taking her seat at Communications.

‘Sir, I’ve heard Spock has gotten sick again, and taken to sickbay. What is it this time? Is he OK?’ she asked, concerned.

Jim felt ashamed. He was the captain. The wellbeing of his first officer was his concern, as much as the wellbeing of any other crew person. If his haunting memories didn’t allow him to perform his duties, he should resign. For a while, at least.

Uhura was still looking at him, waiting for an answer.

‘Let's find out immediately. Uhura, you have the con. I’ll be in sickbay,’ he said, jumping towards the turbolift.

‘Yes, sir,’ said Uhura. With disbelief clearly painted on her face, she took the seat.

Inside the turbolift, Jim leaned against the wall. What had he been doing? The entire ship already knew that Spock was ill in sickbay, but he had not even called Bones to know why.

McCoy had been thinking the same thing, because he greeted Jim with similar thoughts.

‘Damn it, Jim! What were you waiting for, Christmas? He’s been here for hours, and you haven’t even called to learn what’s wrong with him!’ the doctor seethed. ‘What’s wrong with you? Any other time you would have brought him yourself, and stayed by his bed until I chased you out!’

Jim looked down. Bones was right. There was something wrong with him.

‘You’re right. That is exactly what I would have done. I would have brought him in myself. And I would have stayed until you forced me to leave. I wanted to do exactly that, believe me. But I couldn’t, Bones. The mere idea of his body, his hands, anywhere near me... I can’t since… since what happened on Vulcan,’ Jim confessed. Bones raised an eyebrow.

‘Jim! Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your physician.’

Jim looked at him helplessly.

‘I have these terrifying nightmares, Bones, where he kills me. Again, and again. Whenever I look at him, I see that beast on the sands of Vulcan. Spock is not… I know it was the pon farr but, Bones, it will happen again, remember? Every 7 years! How can I trust him?’

‘Well, Jim, this one is over, and it’s still a long way to the next,’ Bones said practically. ‘And in any case, it wasn’t the pon farr what did it. It was the plak tow, the blood fever. Next time he just needs to mate at the onset of pon farr, that’s all.’

‘That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t the one fighting, you weren’t the one he pushed against the sands, you didn’t have to gasp for breath under his weight, his hands squeezing your neck. You weren’t the one he tried to kill.’

McCoy frowned. He grabbed his captain’s arm.

‘Jim… Sit down, come on. Sit down,’ the doctor said, pushing him towards a chair. Jim collapsed, and buried his face in his arms spread on the table.

‘I can’t sleep. I don’t want to feel like this, Bones. Can you do something about this?’ Jim pleaded.

‘I’m not sure I can but, there is someone who may be able to help you.’

Hearing those hopeful words, Jim looked up to the doctor with eagerness.

‘Who? I’ll do anything.’

McCoy’s eyes trailed to the next room. Jim understood instantly.

‘You can’t be serious!’

‘I’m always serious! Jim, see, Spock collapsed on the bridge for the same thing you’re telling me now. More or less. He’s been having nightmares about killing you that have ruined his sleep, and though he likes to boast that Vulcans need less sleep than humans, the thing is that after pon farr he’s weakened and he’s not recovering. His vital signs are within normal parameters but not yet as good as before,’ Bones explained. ‘Fighting you and almost killing you has affected him as much as it has affected you. Moreover…,’ the doctor dragged for a few seconds. ‘Moreover, with his Vulcan telepathic skills he has been feeling what you feel too, Jim. I don’t know if on purpose, or if because he’s not well yet, but his mind blocking thingy isn’t working properly. Or maybe he’s not wanting it to work properly. When he arrived… he was babbling something about you. I think your thoughts invaded him more than he needed. I don’t know how it happened but….’

‘On the bridge,’ Jim interrupted him. ‘He touched me. Well, he didn’t exactly touch me but he was giving me a PADD and for a second… I heard his voice. I thought I was hallucinating.’

‘Well, that explains it. What did he say?’ asked McCoy.

‘He just said my name…’

‘Look, Jim boy, this Vulcan mind stuff is way beyond my capabilities. I’m not a psychologist, but since your problem is kind of the same, I think it wouldn’t hurt you two if you talked it over. I’ll be here if you need my help.’

Jim nodded, though he didn’t yet stand up. What Bones had said made sense. It had been selfish of him to think Spock hadn’t been affected by anything that transpired on his planet. Just because the Vulcan was always so collected he had fallen into the trap of believing he was fine. Jim felt incredibly stupid. He had to know better, in fact, he knew better! Spock was his friend. He had prided himself in being able to understand his friend’s fickle and subtle moods, how could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten the misery Spock felt when he thought he had killed his captain? And the sheer happiness and relief at seeing he was alive? At least, Jim had known he wasn’t really dead, and that Spock hadn’t really killed him - as close as he had been to dying. However, Spock had really believed he had killed his captain with his bare hands.

‘Sorry, Bones, I was so self-centered. You’re right, again,’ Jim gave him a faint smile, and stood up. ‘I’ll talk to him. You don’t need to be here. We’ll be fine.’

‘I’ll see to that,’ McCoy said, relieved to see the change in his friend’s eyes.

With a new resolve, Jim entered the next room. The light was very dim, but he had no trouble in detecting the only bed with an occupant on it.

Spock was lying asleep. ‘Bones must have given him a hypo’, Jim thought. He might have needed one to relax. He stopped just before Spock’s bed, observant. His friend was totally still. Reaching to his inner pool of strength to banish any horrifying memory to the depths of his mind, Jim took a breath and stepped forward, leaning against the border of the bed and clenched the linens, anchoring himself.

Jim looked again at Spock's face. His dark hair was a mess, a sign of the prior crisis, but his features were calm. His smooth forehead, his dark eyelashes, his sharp nose, the luscious and pink bottom lip. The elegant curve of his ears. No wonder he was a prince, he looked exactly like one, Jim thought. What was that old fairytale...Ah, yes, the sleeping beauty. He smiled at the idea. His mom hadn’t been fond of telling him bedtime stories, but he had got to hear of them from friends. How did this one go? The sleeping beauty had woken up with a kiss.

Jim’s smile was still playing on his lips. In fact, he felt unable to stop smiling. As soon as he had entered the room he felt calmer than any living moment of the last two weeks. He should have done this much earlier. He had been weak, and now they both were worse off because of him. He could hardly expect the shy Vulcan to breach the subject first. He hadn’t even been able to speak about pon farr openly! How was he going to speak about feelings? Feelings, a Vulcan! Half-vulcan, Jim reminded himself. Anyway, Jim felt shame again. He had let his friend down, somehow. He searched for Spock’s hand under the blanket and grabbed it reassuringly, intertwining their fingers.

‘I’m sorry, Spock…’ Jim said, raising his eyes to look at his friend again.

Spock’s eyes were open. Wide open.

‘Jim,’ Spock said. ‘I am pleased to see you.’

Jim’s smile broadened.

‘You’re not recoiling in fear,’ Spock noted.

‘Not anymore, my friend. I was… like you were, I guess. Bones told me you had nightmares. Me too.’

‘Yes. I cannot forgive myself for having killed you.’

‘Almost, remember? Almost. It was a ruse. I’m not dying yet,’ Jim said to lighten the mood.

‘Still. You were afraid. Are. It is a logical reaction after a traumatic experience. It is called post-traumatic-stress disorder,’ Spock explained, as matter-of-factly as usual. Jim was relieved to see his usual self.

‘Well, good to know it has a name, isn’t it? But it’s gone now.’

‘No, it isn’t. Not so easily. I have attempted it myself, to dismiss all those thoughts about shame, despair and regret for having killed you, but I cannot. I’m feeling yours too. Dimmer than before, much dimmer, but there they are,’ Spock said.

‘How? How can you feel them? I thought you blocked your mind,’ Jim asked.

‘Before, they were too strong. I’m still recovering from the plak tow and my functioning is not as efficient as usual. Also… I admit I let myself open to them to know how you were doing,’ Spock lowered his eyes. ‘You were not talking to me, Jim. I was afraid to ask.’

Jim nodded, in complete understanding.

‘Now, we're touching hands. Vulcan telepathy is stronger through physical touch.’

‘So you can read everything that’s on my mind now?’

‘Only glimpses of general emotions. To read your mind I would need to perform a proper mind meld.’

‘I see,’ Jim said, though he didn’t understand. He was just happy to see Spock was all right, that he himself was all right, that they were not fighting but talking and holding hands warmly and that Spock was looking at him without murder in his eyes.

‘I am happy too, Jim,’ Spock said. Hearing Spock admit to a feeling, Jim remembered what Bones had made him understand.

‘I’m sorry, my friend. I was thinking only of myself. I didn’t take your feelings into account.’ Seeing that Spock was about to interrupt him, he hurried to finish what he wanted to say. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t have feelings or that you are in control because you weren’t.’

Spock curved his lips in what could be considered a smile.

‘I wish I could have your telepathic powers to always know how you feel,’ Jim declared. ‘Then I would never be stupid as I have just been.’

At hearing this, the curve on Spock’s lips disappeared and they parted instead, as he always did when surprised. He raised an eyebrow.

‘That is possible, Jim. However, it is a permanent arrangement that cannot be revoked.’

‘How?’

‘When Vulcans bond with a mate, they do so through their minds. They become like one.’ Spock said.

‘Wait, a mate? But wasn’t that what pon farr was all about? Wasn’t T’Pring to be your mate? Do you have this bond with her?’ Jim asked.

‘Pon farr is the time when our physical needs for mating are most intense, so much that we can die or kill to fulfil them. But the physical means nothing without the mental bond. It is the mental bond what defines who one's mate is.’ Spock explained. ‘I didn’t mate with T’Pring so we didn’t create a bond.’

Jim stood silently considering everything his friend was telling him. He still had Spock’s hand in his, and had inadvertently covered it with his other hand too. Spock could feel what he was thinking. What a terrible power. No wonder Vulcans had to master the control of their emotions and of their minds. Otherwise, on their planet, they would read anyone’s and anyone would read theirs. However, Jim longed to be able to know what was in his friends’ mind just like he was able to read his. Him reading his face was not comparable. He wanted to feel equal to Spock.

‘I can show you how it looks like,’ Spock answered Jim’s thoughts. ‘With a proper mind meld.’

‘Show me,’ Jim nodded.

Spock leaned forward until he was sitting on the bed, and with his free hand beckoned Jim to move closer. He placed his fingers on the human’s temple, and leaned on until their foreheads were almost touching.

‘My mind to…’ Spock started speaking.

 _Your mind,_ Jim finished. Or had it been Spock?

Jim felt himself overwhelmed by the alien mind, like a tsunami rolling over him. It instantly wavered back, but it was late, too late, and it burned him and left him flat against the sand. The red, hot sand. He was back in Vulcan. Was every Vulcan mind just like the planet? Hot and dry and harsh. He was having trouble breathing. The air was too thin and it burned him. He looked around for a way out. A hand grabbed his arm. _Jim_. It was Spock’s. He saw him again animal-like, his deepest nature unleashed, overcome by the blood fever. He tried to pull away, but Spock was too strong, he didn’t let go. Pulling and pushing, Jim charged against the Vulcan and they fell together on the burning sand. Jim tried to free himself from Spock’s hands, which shackled him. Spock turned and placed himself on top of Jim, pushing his hands hard against the sand, holding him still with his legs, his body pressed against him. He was taller and stronger, and Jim shook his head and wailed. _Not again. No, not again_ , he heard from somewhere. _Look at me_. He looked at Spock, for it was Spock’s voice the one he had heard, and he saw himself being looked at from Spock’s eyes, and then he saw the Vulcan again, back on his own self. This time Spock’s eyes didn’t carry the animalistic murderous craze they had two weeks ago. Instead, they burned with resolute desire. Jim gasped, which made Spock quiver. He was feeling Jim’s amazement.

Jim used that millisecond to turn around and place himself on top of Spock. He held Spock against the sand and Spock didn’t resist. _Jim_. His eyes were hungry but docile. Jim steadied himself, giving Spock a long stare. He knew Spock could feel his amazement, he had seen himself from Spock’s point of view, why couldn’t he yet feel what Spock felt?

 _But you do. You know what I feel._ Yes he did. It burned him at first, when the contact started. _I cannot impose it on you. I would never hurt you again._

‘Doesn’t it hurt you too, Spock?’, Jim asked, voicing his thoughts, unsure yet of how the meld worked.

‘I can manage it.’

Spock’s lips had moved to say the words, even if it wasn’t really necessary. Jim’s attention was captivated by their movement. They looked so different now from how they had looked like a few minutes ago, while he watched Spock sleep, that calm countenance, the full and bright bottom lip. Now there was a different kind of calmness in Spock’s face, not peaceful sleep but resignation. Resignation to whatever Jim decided. To whatever Jim desired.

Slowly, he relaxed his grip on Spock’s right hand. Noticing that Spock didn’t move, he let it go completely. Spock still didn’t move. With the back of this hand, Jim brushed Spock’s face, forehead, his temple where the meld points were, his bony cheek, until he rested his fingertips on Spock’s lips.

Jim felt Spock shiver under his touch. His mind was filled again with images of them rolling on the Vulcan sands, pressed and rubbing their bodies against each other, his hands on Spock’s lithe waist trying to get him to turn around to straddle him, Spock’s firm hands on his shoulders, pushing him against the sand and grinding his crotch against his. The sensation was incredibly pleasant. He wished that had been what happened. Thinking about it made his cock hard.

_It can be._

Focusing on Spock again, on the real Spock or what he thought was real, he realized Spock was speaking the truth. They could do it, now. They could change everything that had happened, into what they wished had happened. Jim felt a surge of desire, different from the one he had felt before. This one was his own. Spock closed his eyes and arched his back as he let it sweep over his senses.

Jim let go the other hand and cupped Spock’s face with both, and stared at him with bright eyes brimming with tears.

‘Spock’, Jim said softly, and felt something melting in his heart, or Spock’s? It didn’t matter any more.

He plunged into the Vulcan’s mouth and kissed him first with his lips pressed, before parting them and teasing Spock’s lips to open, which they did, compliant. Their tongues danced around each other in their mouths, teasing and tasting at first, then exploring further, in exhausting gymnastics. Spock had grabbed Jim by his waist, and thrust his hips against Jim. Jim’s hand had trailed down to Spock’s shoulders, and he gripped them as if he was a shipwreck grabbing on to a lifesaver.

Jim finally pulled away to look into his Spock’s eyes again, where he found something new he hadn’t seen before burning bright. Happiness.

Spock smiled and nodded.

Still straddling Spock, Jim straightened his back and took his shirt off. He tugged the hem of Spock’s shirt to have him do the same. Again, he complied without a word, and lied back on the hot sand, his eyes fixed on Jim, expectant. Jim studied the Vulcan’s lean and hairy chest, weirdly curly. He had never thought a manly chest could be so beautiful. Stroking Spock’s hair, he looked for a nipple and pinched it. When Spock moaned at the touch, Jim couldn’t suppress a grin.

Jim bent down to lick the nipple he had found, while searching for the other one with his opposite hand. Once he located it, he alternated between them hungrily kissing, sucking and licking, while his hands squeezed Spock’s torso. Spock’s hands were all over Jim’s back, nape and hair, pulling the human harder against himself, breathing heavily.

Jim moved from Spock’s nipples to Spock’s neck in a trail of kisses. He began teasing Spock’s neck and collar bone, sucking and kissing, to which the Vulcan responded wildly, panting and thrusting his hips. Jim could feel the Vulcan’s erection hardening under him. Wanting to ease his friend’s restlessness, Jim moved aside to help Spock undo his pants and liberate his cock.

Spock let him pull them away and leaned forward to reach Jim’s hips to push his captain's pants down too. Jim was delighted at Spock’s expression of urgency and desire. He helped Spock fumble with the zipper and undress him. Jim then took Spock’s hands on his own shoulders and leaned back on the sand. He smiled warmly at Spock’s body above him, and reaching for his friend’s shoulders, caressed him from the tip of his ears to the small of his slim back. Spock’s eyes were wide and glistened with adoration. Or were those his own eyes? Anyway, he smiled knowing they were the cause of that unique light.

Spock’s hand caressed Jim’s cheek softly before grabbing Jim’s hand from his shoulder and bringing it to Jim’s heart. There, separating his and Jim’s fingers in the taal, he pressed his index and middle fingers into Jim’s. A wave of pleasure coming from Spock crashed on Jim, who husked: ‘What are you…’

As reply, Spock leaned forward to kiss him in the human way.

Combining kissing methods made them heady, blood roaring in their ears. Jim didn’t know how much longer he could take, but it wouldn’t definitely be long. Spock pulled away, and felt Jim’s hard cock with his lean fingers. It twitched at the contact. Pleased with the effect, Spock teased Jim’s cock pulsating his index finger on its head, using the rest of his fingers to caress the shaft. Jim felt his control leaving him completely. All we wanted was to fuck Spock.

Reading his mind, Spock locked Jim’s cock in his hand and started pumping it harder. Jim moaned. He moved his hips to Spock’s rhythm until they adjusted. Jim closed his eyes, letting the pleasure fill him. Then he felt something wet on his cock. Spock had shifted and was swirling his tongue around the head of Jim’s cock, sucking it, swallowing it. With his now free hands, Spock caressed Jim’s balls. They jumped and twitched at the Vulcan’s playful fingers. Ultimately, those fingers found their way to Jim’s perineum, and started rubbing it and stimulating Jim’s anus. Helpless, he thrust his hips even harder against Spock’s mouth.

‘Spock, I… I can’t… hold it--.’ Spock only tightened the grip of his mouth on Jim’s cock and Jim came in his mouth with an elongated spasm.

Jim felt the orgasm like an explosion that ripped away the Vulcan landscape they had been in into shreds. They now floated naked in space, among the stars. He felt like laughing, so he laughed with exhilaration, and embraced Spock so tightly that had he been human, he would have broken a rib or two. Spock hugged him back softly, placing his head against Jim’s shoulder.

One voice was heard in their minds’ universe, that said three words: _I love you._

***

When they regained consciousness, Jim was lying on top of Spock on the floor, flushed and sweating profusely. Spock was staring at him and Jim smiled. It was all good between them again. Better than good. They looked at each other in perfect contentment.

A knock on the door took them out of their trance. McCoy opened the door and seeing all quiet, came in.

‘Are you two OK? I’ve heard some loud noises.’

Jim laughed heartily. He noticed they were still wearing their clothes, even if completely crumpled. His shirt wasn’t even torn. Yet. ‘We are perfectly fine, Bones.’

‘My god Jim, what are you doing on the floor!’

‘I’m fine, doctor. Jim helped me recover,’ Spock interrupted, leaning forward to sit.

‘Spock! Good,’ said the doctor, suddenly understanding. ‘I say it was about time for you two, but wouldn’t it have been more logical to make love once you were back on your feet again and in your own quarters?’ the doctor could never miss a chance to tease.

‘Indeed, doctor. Since I cannot deny your argument, I think we’ll be following your advice immediately.’

‘OK, OK, there you go, lovebirds! Make sure you don't come back with a broken arm or something.’

‘You would love that, wouldn’t you Bones? You could tease us forever,’ Jim laughed, leaning on Spock to stand up and helping his lover up as well.

‘I already do, Jim boy. Hop, hop, if you’re leaving, go, there are people in this ship who may actually require a physician.’

Passing by McCoy who was guarding the door, the doctor gave them each a pat on their shoulders. Even in the dim light, Bones’ smile was too bright not to be seen.

Once out of sickbay, they straightened their shirts and looked at each other.

‘I think we haven't yet finished. Your quarters or mine?’ Jim asked.

‘I believe yours are closer, Cap.. Jim,’ Spock self-correction made his Jim laugh.

‘Very well then,' Jim said. 'Spock, this time, we could try the physical way too.'

Spock tilted his head and looked at him gravely.

‘As you wish, _t’hy’la_.’

Jim didn’t know Vulcan but he understood perfectly the meaning of the word. _Friend, brother, lover._ Everything.

Jim melted in a huge smile.


End file.
